


The Mechanic

by FallenHero_Achilles



Series: Saints & Sinners [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gets progressively darker, Loss of Parent(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Possible Character Death, Post-Apocalypse, Racist Language, Undead, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenHero_Achilles/pseuds/FallenHero_Achilles
Summary: Leslie Bell was a normal college student who worked at his Uncle's chop-shop in California when the undead rose to feast on the living. With the world going to hell and people close to him dropping like flies around him, he is forced to embark on a cross country trip to find a place where he can truly call home. Along the journey, he'll encounter all manner of evil, and as days turn to weeks, and weeks become months, Leslie will face his ultimate struggle: suppressing or embracing the dark impulses born from constant exposure to trauma and violence.
Series: Saints & Sinners [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733500
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Introduction

It’s the smell that I’ve always hated the most. It was always distinct yet familiar to me, and despite all of the years that went by, it upsets me to admit that I’d grown used to it. That scent of rancid flesh, nests of maggots, feces sitting in the sun, the scent of death that carries on the wind. The telltale signs that the dead are nearby.

I want you to know that over the past few years, I’ve learned that there really is a hell and heaven, just not in the way that you may think they exist. Hell comes in the form of the physical world; the body is condemned to hell, and it is only through the release of death that our suffering comes to an end, and we can truly embrace heaven for what it is: oblivion.

So, I’ll start from the beginning, and I mean the absolute beginning. Before I lost everything that mattered to me, before I lost my very humanity, and before I lost my mind as well. See, as time went on it didn’t come as much of a surprise that I would truly get to see the worst of what humanity had to offer. I knew that there were bad people in the world, that’s just a fact of life. I just didn’t realize that the moment you stripped away law enforcement, the military, anyone responsible for maintaining order, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. All of humanity’s worst tendencies reveal themselves, and unless you look in the mirror and take a really good look at yourself, you’ll become the monster that you swore you’d never become. 

With that being said, let’s dive in, shall we?

Did they call him the mechanic because of his skill with fixing up cars, boats, and machinery? Or was it because he really was a mechanic before the shit hit the fan, the dead rising to feast upon the living while humanity proceeded to tear itself apart? He’s a wanderer, an outcast, and a damn good friend. Cross him, and he’ll make sure your death is painful. Remain loyal to him, and you’ll never have to fear him. Either way, wherever he goes, death is sure to follow. 

In a world ruled by the dead, he’s the last person you’d wanna meet on a dark night.

“All right, kid, that right there is a Ruger Redhawk .357 magnum. It holds eight rounds in the cylinder right there, and each time you pull the trigger you need use your thumb to pull back the hammer. That turns the cylinder, loading another round into the chamber. The Redhawk is a personal favorite of mine: packs a decent punch, and the capacity is pretty decent as well. The iron sight is pretty decent as well. How’s the weight?”

Leslie Bell could hear every word through the cushions of his protective earpieces, but he nodded in understanding. The revolver had heft to it, but it fits perfectly in his hand. He popped out the cylinder and checked its contents. Sure enough, there were eight rounds within each slot, shining in the dazzling light within the gun range. 

“It feels pretty good Uncle B. You mind if I uh…”

The older man nodded, a warm smile gracing his weathered face before nodding in approval. 

“Go on ahead. Show em how we do it in this family.”

Leslie raised the Redhawk to eye level, knees bent slightly, shoulders relaxed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down the iron sight, finding the target before him the form of a circular board with multicolored dots. He opened fire, and his heart slowed down.

He was in the zone. 

Leslie slammed the hood of the vintage muscle car down as he looked into the surprised face of the customer who’d brought it in. He had the full visage of a rich prep school kid with far too many privileges: dark blue blazer with a school insignia draped over his shoulder. Freshly steamed slacks and loafers completed by the salmon button-up with no tie.

The young man whistled.

“She looks way better than she did when I brought her in!” He said as he took a few steps closer, eyeing the new paint job as well as the (annoying as hell) repair job.  
“I take pride in my work, man. I’ve got the invoice ready for you in the checkout, but I run you through it. Fixed that nasty dent in the hood, replaced the engine—which was not easy to do—and of course, finished it off with the paint job you so graciously detailed for us.”

The young man clapped his hands.

“Yeah, Dad’ll definitely like this. I honestly felt bad bringing it in as banged up as it was last time. I mean, yes, someone did break in and take it for a joyride, but none of us knew he’d bash her up as much as he did.”

Yikes. Leslie did not want to know what it’d be like to face the wrath of a wealthy family like that. Still, it didn’t matter to him. His cut of the pay for this job was looking to be his biggest yet, and his college tuition wasn’t gonna pay itself.

“With that being said, let’s get you squared away.”

As Leslie walked the customer into an admin office where they’d finish the transaction, a mounted television within the garage would continue to play the evening news.

“—Increasing reports of violence across the country continue to rise across the country as more cases of a newly discovered virus continues to spread at an unprecedented rate…”

When the transaction was finished, the young prep school student shook Leslie’s hand as he got into the car. Rolling down the window, he cast a sideways glance at the television as the news continued to unfold.

“Hey, uh, your watch yourself man. Stuff on the news seems pretty bad.”

Leslie waved a dismissive hand.

“Nah, I’m sure it's fine. New illness shows up, people go a bit crazy, and it always blows over. This probably ain’t any different. I appreciate the concern though. Enjoy the rest of your day sir.”

“You as well.”

He watched the kid drive off, hands on his hips as Leslie looked at the TV, sighed, and finally flicked it off with the press of a button.

That was his first mistake.

Being a mechanic carried a number of benefits ranging from the extensive knowledge of machinery and general craft to critical thinking and creativity. The garage Leslie worked in was owned by his Uncle Bell. It was a two-story brick building with a large garage space where the bulk of their work was done while also featuring a waiting room, admin area where important documents were stored, an employee restroom, and a restroom for customers. The second floor was an employee only space, having an office where his Uncle handled his private work and a room with a bed and television. There was even a decently sized kitchen complete with an oven and stove. Nowadays, Leslie spent most of his time working out of the garage, the wide variety of tools available being a godsend given his situation. 

Thwack!

Stainless steel sailed through the air and sank three inches into the frontal lobe of an undead teenage girl no more than sixteen years old. Her salmon sweater was stained with gore as her left arm had been brutally torn off by an unknown attacker. She’d wandered into the garage when the main shutter had been left open, catching the young mechanic completely by surprise. The dead girl would have gotten her teeth into him too, if not for his Uncle who had suddenly burst into the garage and took her down. 

Leslie found himself sitting on the ground as he watched the scene with wide eyes, watching as his Uncle wrenched the tool free from the girl’s head and scratched his nose—a gesture he made whenever he was anxious.

“You alright?” He said as his chest rose and fell rapidly, wiping the dripping hatchet onto the dead girl’s already ruined sweater. As she lay there with her blood still pumping from the new divide in her head, her milky white eyes were still open, and that sent shivers up Leslie’s spine.

“I’m good. I didn’t even see her coming. What the hell was up with her?”

Without answering, his Uncle grabbed the cadaver by its legs and dragged her outside of the garage and out of sight, running back into the garage and pressing the button on the wall signaling for the shutter to close. 

“You been watching the news lately?” He asked as he approached one of the workbenches and picked up an old rag, wetting it in the industrial sink before furiously wiping his hands.

“I went out to help out a friend. There were people trying to break into her shop—tried to attack her—and when I got there, Jesus fucking christ it was bad. They were in there biting as many people as they could, just tearing into them. I was able to get her outta there but one of them managed to bite her. I dropped her off at the hospital and made my way straight back here. Thank god I got here when I did. You didn’t hear her come in?”

Leslie shook his head as his Uncle extended a hand, hoisting his nephew to his feet and holding a hand to his shoulder to help ease the startled young man.

“Nah. It’s been quiet around here. Actually, quieter than usual. I was just working on a little side project when she just strolled up in here.”

“Come with me.” He said as he pulled his nephew firmly by the arm and walked him into the admin area. 

Inside was another TV, his Uncle turning it on and tapping his foot on the ground as the screen came to life and the image of a live news broadcast came on.

“It’s this virus, kid. Didn’t think it would be like this, but it’s far worse than we ever thought it would be. Those people, those infected, they don’t feel pain. They don’t think, they just…kill. And eat. Never seen anything like it.”

The audio from the broadcast had been lost due to technical difficulties, but the image was perfect. They were showing a hospital that was currently surrounded by police officers and heavily armed SWAT officers. There were bodies scattered across the lot, small groups of people slowly shuffling towards the officers as they suddenly opened fire. The camera zoomed in to show an old man in a tattered hospital gown, bullets peppering his chest and neck before he was sent crashing to the ground. 

Then he got back up, much to Leslie’s astonishment.

The screen went dark as Uncle B shut off the television. He paced around the room with his brows furrowed in thought as simultaneously tapped on his belt.

“Alright, first things first nephew. We need to talk about what just happened. That girl that just tried to get at you, she—”

“Was infected. That arm? No human being could survive that. I mean, I’ve heard of people getting high on PCP and taking a few bullets before they went down for good but her entire arm was gone. If the shock didn’t kill her than she’d have died from blood loss.”

“If I had to guess, it’s like rabies on steroids. Maybe her brain just couldn’t process the trauma, the virus pushing her to attack others. I dunno, nephew. All I know is that the phone lines are down. I tried making a call earlier but all the lines are at capacity. Until something changes, we need to fortify this place.”

Leslie shrugged.

“The garage shutter is down but it’s pretty durable, the thing’s made of steel, after all. After that break-in last year you got rid of the old glass storm door and replaced it with a metal security one. In fact…”

Leslie approached the front entrance and locked it. Meanwhile, his Uncle set about locking each of the windows and lowering the blinds to prevent anyone from seeing in. Within minutes, the mechanic’s shop had sealed off all doors and windows.

Shortly after, they took stock of the weapons and supplies at their disposal.

Leslie’s Uncle was a gun nut, to keep it short. It was something that ran in the family. Being a former vet who’d served his country overseas, he was quite knowledgeable on not just subjects concerning engineering, but of course on firearms. In the upstairs office was his Uncle’s 9mm Beretta 92fs. Within the same office was the birthday gift Leslie had received from his Uncle, his Ruger Redhawk .357 magnum. Each weapon had at least two full boxes of ammunition. Back at his Uncle’s apartment stowed in the black heavy-duty case was his Remington 870 12-gauge shotgun. Three guns, one of which was a ten-minute drive away.  
The fridge they had in the kitchen didn’t have much in the way of food and was mainly filled with leftover takeout, frozen junk food, and a few cases of beer and soda. 

On each floor was a wall-mounted cabinet in which they stored medical supplies. While each one was full of the bare necessities, neither of them knew how long this would be going on. 

A series of loud pops outside of the building drew their attention away from their planning as Leslie ran to the nearest window and peeked out through the blinds. There was a squad car sitting in the middle of the street, two officers standing with their guns raised as a teenage girl with a bloody bite mark on her neck slowly made her toward them. They were shouting something at her, probably giving her a warning. Then they opened fire. Leslie kept count of each time her body jerked in response to the rounds hitting her body. Heart, lungs, stomach, neck: all of these places were hit. Still, she wouldn’t stop her pursuit until one round caught her between the eyes. She fell to the ground and did not rise again.

“We stay here for the night. Walls are thick, the back area is fenced in and my truck is parked back there, so I’m not too worried about someone taking it unless they go through the trouble of cutting through chainlink. We don’t know just how bad the situation is, and if it’ll clear up. It things aren’t better by tomorrow, or they turn out to be much worse than we thought, we’re gonna hit up a few stores and grab what we can.”

“You talking about looting?”

“When people start to riot, all hell breaks loose. People lose their minds and start stealing the shit that doesn’t matter: TV’s, expensive jewelry, anything they think they can sell for cash later on. We’ll be stocking up on food and medicine. I’ve got a friend in South Central LA. He’s a gunsmith. He owes me a few favors, and I know he’s got a good selection of guns. If things get too bad we’ll head over to his place. He’s got a whole condo right above his shop. Reinforced windows and metal shutters that close down over the windows and doors to stop any would-be gangbangers from breaking in. You met him when you were a baby, so he’ll be glad to see you again.” His Uncle said with a tired smile. 

Leslie nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	2. The New Normal

Filthy, matted black hair sits atop a partially torn scalp, her skin pallid and lifeless as her milky white eyes stare blankly into the carcass in front of her. She’d died wearing an old ratty AC/DC t-shirt, rotted strands of flesh hanging from the gaping wound in her neck as she digs her gnarled hands into the gaping abdomen of the man she’d killed. The walking corpse pulls dripping strands of intestines into her awaiting mouth, chewing with an almost intense gusto as her hands tear back into his abdominal cavity.

A gloved hand grabs her by the back of her hair, a long knife plunging into her left eye and immediately torn free as a figure clad in a mechanic’s coveralls and combat boots steps over the truly lifeless corpse and continues on his way through the department store. 

He keeps a bandanna wrapped around his face that he previously doused in men’s cologne. Los Angeles belongs to the dead now, and with new ownership came that ever-present smell of death and decay. 

Leslie slides his backpack off of his shoulders and immediately heads to the aisle holding pharmaceutical goods and meds. He carefully fills his bag with painkillers, gauze, band-aids, cold medicine, allergy meds, and just about anything he could think of they would need. At one point he comes across a box of latex condoms. Leslie raises an eyebrow and stuffs them into his pack.

‘Well, if I’m bored enough I can make water balloons and toss em at the walkers.’

The sound of dry rasping and shuffling footsteps raises the hairs on the back of his neck, Leslie dropping into a crouch as he drew his knife, his other hand falling to the holster at his belt that contained his Ruger. 

He creeps down the rest of the medicine aisle and makes a right turn past a shelf of feminine hygiene products. Peeking into the next aisle, he spots a walker in a dirty flannel shirt. He’s staring aimlessly at the shelf in front of it. Leslie whistled loudly, the walker turning its head and shuffling in his direction. Staying crouched, he waits until the walker is just about to pass him before shoving the cadaver to the ground and plunging his knife into the back of its head.

While Leslie has learned that some fights are best avoided, given that this was his third time doing a supply run at this store, he’s cleared it three times as well. The likely reason for more walker activity within the store was the poor bastard near the front who’d become someone’s lunch. It’s pretty common nowadays. Some people decide that life in a world of walking corpses just isn’t worth it, and they decided to end themselves in the worst way possible.

It’s pretty selfish, Leslie often thinks to himself. If you want to die so badly, just shoot yourself in the head like everyone else. At least that way you’re guaranteed to not come back and take a bite out of some unlucky person. 

Casting his thoughts aside, Isaac hits up a few other aisles and picks up a few canned goods and even a few packs of batteries that have yet to be taken. With these items in his pack, he pulls a radio from his belt and holds down the speaker button.

“Just finished up my run, what’s your status, over?”

The familiar, grizzled voice of his Uncle crackles to life.

“Making my way back to the meeting point. I’ll see you soon, over.”

They meet each other at a relatively empty intersection where a semi-truck had overturned. The driver was still in his seat, pawing at the space in front of him in an attempt to get at anything that walked past his truck. Aside from a few errant walkers and the occasional stray dog or cat, the area in which the mechanic’s shop was located was pretty dead. 

When Leslie and his Uncle reunited at the intersection, they made their way back to the shop only to find out that someone had beaten them there. Standing at the back entrance near the locked fence gate was a woman named Paige Nelson. She was a tall woman with dirty blonde hair that she kept cut low into a pixie cut. She’d said that her hair had been longer, but after a walker grabbed it and almost took a bite out of her neck, she refused to allow her hair to grow out. They’d met over a month ago when she was attacked by a group of rioters. Leslie and Uncle B managed to fight them off and let her join their two-man crew.

“Ten minutes and thirty-five seconds.” She said with a mischievous grin.  
“That’s exactly how long it took me to find…a few cans of beans, some knife sharpeners, a couple of jars of peanut butter and jam, and I even managed to find this.” She reached under the back of her shirt and pulled out a black .45 caliber M1911, the words ‘Nighthawk Custom’ inscribed along with the grip.

“Nice!” Leslie said as he looked the gun over.

“Ah ah! Finders keepers. My Dad had a .45 just like this.” She said before stowing the gun away back into her pants.

Uncle B unlocked the padlock keeping the fence shut, Leslie and Paige entering the back area and heading into the shop as his Uncle locked it behind them. The garage looked the same as it always did, only there was a large black van sitting in the center of it.

The van had once been used to deliver mail, but now they were turning into something that would better suit a group of people trying to survive the apocalypse. They’d emptied the back of everything they didn’t need, welding shelves into the floors and mounting some to the walls as well. They would store food and other supplies there and would even mount weapons to the walls for quick access. They even sawed through the vehicle’s roof and mounted a camper shell to the top. The plan was to create a small sleeping space enough for one person. A ladder fixed to the wall within the back would lead up to a place where someone could enjoy a good book and generally relax. They had even affixed metal grates to the windows to prevent the dead from getting at them even if the windows were to end up broken. This little project wasn’t completely finished yet. Once repaired the engine and found one more tire, the plan was to head to South Central LA, pick up Uncle’s gunsmith friend, Reggie, and hit the road. 

Paige pulled up a metal folding chair and sat next to the, a large CB radio at her feet as she held the microphone close to her ear.

“Holy shit! Robby’s on guys!”

Oh yeah, Robby.

Robby the radio rebel was a survivor making radio broadcasts from an undisclosed location in California. From what the small group knew about him when the shit hit the fan and law enforcement fell to the dead, he would communicate to families regarding what areas in the cities would be the most logical to hole up in for a short period of time. He’s saved many lives so far and is a genuinely nice guy to talk to when you’re down. He tries to stay on the air for as long as he can, but he’s made it clear that he has to get some sleep at some point in the day.

“This is Paige Nelson, reporting in. How’s your day going Robby?” Paige was the most charismatic of the group. She was a voice actor before everything went down, and it was that charisma and the sheer amount of animation behind her behavior that landed her so many jobs.

“Yo! Shoutout to the Mechanic gang. I’m hanging in there. I had to take out a few uglies that got too close to the station, so same old same old. Y’know, it’s that god awful smell that I just can’t get used to, man. I mean, I know that dead people up and walking around is creepy enough but that rotting smell they always give off? Shit’s just gross, man. How’re y’all holdin’ up?”

Leslie grabbed the radio from Paige.

“This is Leslie. Just finished up a supply run. Should be enough to keep us going for a little while. Still, we ain’t staying in this city though. The place is a death trap.”

“Amen!” Uncle B called from another room in the building.

“I hear that, and it’s true. Also, I’ve got news. Another one of those military checkpoints that were still operational fell last night. Apparently, several survivors managed to hide their bites and were brought inside. They couldn’t control the massacre that followed.” Robby mentioned grimly.

“All the more reason to leave.”

Robby laughed on the other end. The cool thing about Robbie was his attitude. Despite everything that was going on, it was difficult to keep the guy down. He’d just continue cracking jokes and tossing out advice to anyone who needed it.

“Still, you know what I’m doing. I’m gonna stay here for a bit, and when supplies start to run a bit low, I’ll hop in a car and head out.”

If only it was that simple. 

Leslie handed the radio back to Paige before heading up a flight of stairs and continuing to the very top where the roof entrance was. Pushing open the door, he was hit by a strong gust of wind as he sat down and looked over the tops of buildings that surrounded them.

The dead roamed the streets aimlessly, not seeming to care where they were going, their hollow gazes fixing themselves on everything and also nothing at the same time. 

It had already been two months since the world came to literal standstill and everyday life became a thing of the past. Streets that once bustled with life, with people going to school and to work were now empty. Trash and debris lay in the streets as walking cadavers shuffled in every direction. While the walker population around the shop was moderate, to say the least, the deeper you’d go into the city, the worse things became. Hell, around the shop firing a gun was a death sentence. Say what you will about the dead, but when those things locked onto a sound, they became far more aggressive. 

Despite living within the thick walls of the mechanic’s shop with a rear entrance enclosed by a tall chainlink fence that was now fitted with barbed wire, that ever-present danger hung above him like a dark storm cloud. It was this sensation that sent shivers up his spine, it was this sensation that told him like a stern parent: you aren’t safe here.

There was a pair of binoculars sitting next to a folding chair that they kept on the roof for surveying the streets. Peering through them, Leslie was met with the sight of absolute destruction. On one street corner, an SUV had crashed into the front of a corner store, the remnants of the building a charred mess as a result of the fire that had followed. In the center of one road was a woman who had hit another vehicle. Her body had been ejected from the car and fed upon by walkers. Her lower torso was still lying next to her vehicle while her upper torso now crawled along the asphalt, leaving a leech trail of dried blood in her wake. 

Other than that, most storefronts had their displays smashed, most of their contents gone as a result of the mass looting that went down in the initial days of the outbreak. On occasion you’d see a survivor or two creeping through the streets, dodging walkers as they made supply runs of their own or were on their way to another location. Either way, entertainment around here was limited. 

The silver lining was that there was a decent bookstore three blocks away from the shop. Before the world came to an abrupt end, Leslie would head there during his break or after a class to pick up something interesting to read. Fantasy, science fiction, horror, smut novels on occasion. He’d known the owners pretty well too. He remembered tearing up when found them as walkers, putting them down without a second’s hesitation. 

Paige opened the door to the roof, eyes dark with concern as Leslie turned around to face her. 

“We have a situation here. Come on down!”

Uncle B sat in front of the CB radio, scratching at his nose as he listened to the voice on the other end. 

“—Got into a shootout with some two-bit thugs who wanted to take what I had. I was able to take em down, but that attracted attention, way too much attention. It looks like fucking Times Square outside my building. The walls here are thick and my shutters are still down, so I’m trying to stay as quiet as possible. The sheer number of these things outside reminds me of how hard South Central got hit.”

“Gimme a visual Reggie,” Uncle B said. “Are you in any immediate danger?”

“The odds of them getting in are slim, but I won’t be making runs anytime soon. As I said, I’m surrounded on all sides, so my best bet is to stay put until they eventually wander off.”

Uncle B scratched at his nose.

“Alright, let us know if anything changes, and you stay safe.”

Reggie laughed on the other end.

“I’ll try my best, friend.”

This was yet another reason to only use guns as a last resort, especially when you’re deep within the inner city. In Reggie’s case, being in a place as fortified as his gun shop, it made sense why he’d opened fire on those bandits without daring to take a step outside.  
“Uh…hello? Is anyone out there?” An unfamiliar voice crackled to life from the CB radio, Paige’s eyes going wide as she heard it as well. Uncle B held his finger down on the microphone’s button.

“You’re coming in loud and clear. The name is Noah Bell. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“The name is Jericho Henson, but my friends just call me Jay. I’m actually not from around here, as I was here for business reasons when the shit hit the fan. My fiance and I are holed up in this apartment complex over in Crenshaw. Some of our group members got taken out by walkers and have breached the building. I’ve managed to section them off to one part of the building but the barricade won’t hold for too long, and we’re outnumbered. I was hoping someone out there could provide some kind of assistance.”

Paige was already on her feet, checking the safety on her .45 before checking the rest of her gear in preparation for what was to come.

“What are you doing?” Uncle B asked as he still held the microphone in his hand.

“We gotta help him, don’t we?”

“But we don’t even know—”

“We can’t just sit here while someone who’s nearby needs help. You guys didn’t leave me behind, so why would you leave someone else behind?”

Leslie nodded, his hands folded across his chest.

“I agree with her. Crenshaw is close by and I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at night knowing we left someone behind to die. Plus, we could use extra hands around here to finish off the van. We need to find two more tires—one as a spare—and it needs to be given a whole inspection to make sure that nothing goes wrong while we’re on the road. If they don’t know much about cars we can teach em.”

His Uncle smiled before nodding his head.  
“You remind me more of your father the older you get.”

Leslie’s smile vanished, and Uncle B swore under his breath.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to remind you of em. Forget I said that.”

Leslie nodded.

“You guys still there?” Jericho said over the radio.

“If you can give us the exact address we can track you down. We’re actually not too far from you guys. Once we have your location we’re gonna gear up and head out. You guys got any stuff you’re gonna bring, pack it up now. We need you to be ready to move as soon as we get there, alright?”

“Understood. Thanks for the assist.”

Staging a rescue at a place overrun by the dead?

This was going to be far from an easy task.


	3. Complications

It’s a three story brick building that a one point had its parking lot fenced in to mark its property. As Leslie looked through his binoculars one block down from behind his Uncle’s black pickup truck, the place was crawling with the undead. He could clearly see that the glass double doors had been smashed, shards of glass shimmering in the sun as they sat scattered across the ground in front of them.

The street in front of the building was bustling with walker activity, the dead aimlessly wandering around as their hollowed groans carried on the wind. 

According to Jericho, he and his fiancé were on the third floor. The walkers had not only breached the building, but they had also managed to occupy the first and second floor, sealing themselves behind a barricade that prevented them from making their way out. Even if they made it pas their barricade they still would have to fight through two floors of walkers in order to get outside, and then there was the crowd of walkers that was waiting for them outside.

However, Jericho mentioned that there was a fire escape on the second floor that reached the first floor. From there, there was a ladder that they could drop down from that would leave them in the rear parking lot. 

Leslie peered through his binoculars once more and immediately noticed that the bulk of the walkers were in front of the building. While it seemed that there were a few hanging out in the, their numbers were far slimmer than that of the front.

He held down the button on his hand-held radio. 

“I’m in position, Paige, you all set?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let em know we’re getting started, Noah.”

“Gotcha,” Uncle B’s voice crackled over the radio.

They set off into motion, weaving between wrecked vehicles as they slowly made their way around errant undead, dispatching those that got too close with their knives as they made their way toward the apartment building. As they grew closer, they took care to skirt around the toppled chainlink fence that had separated the lot from outside properties. Once they found their way to the rear of the building, Paige and Leslie went about clearing out the few walkers that were hiding out there.

Leslie spotted a female walker lurking right next to the rear exit, arm missing at the elbow as loose strands of sinewy flesh swayed back and forth with each of her movements. Leslie grabbed the cadaver by the hair and plunged his blade into the top of her skull, twisting the blade before tearing the dripping blade free. Meanwhile, Paige dispatched the walker closest to her before gently letting the body drop to the ground, eager to make as little sound as possible. She hissed a message into her handheld radio to Uncle B before gesturing for Leslie to look up. Just as he did so, Leslie saw a window open and an arm stick out, the hands forming a thumbs up.

Nodding at the signal, Paige and Leslie entered the building, Leslie sheathing his knife before pulling a hatchet from his belt, Paige drawing a machete as they made their way into the building.

Noah Bell kept his truck parked in a quiet alleyway a few blocks away from the apartment complex in just the right position that would allow him a full view of its front area. He’d watched Paige and his nephew sneak their way around and had just told Jericho to make his way toward them now. While this little rescue mission was going quite well so far, he failed to notice the four men approaching his truck from behind. They remained crouched down low, one of them armed with a shotgun while the others all held pistols. 

With his mind so focused on the task before him, he never noticed them taking cover behind his car, the man with the shotgun suddenly slamming his fists against the window before taking a step back and raising his weapon up to eye level, Noah’s eyes going wide as he stared down its barrel.

“Get out the car old man.”


	4. New problems, different day

Jericho drove the blade of his axe into the pallid head of the walker in front of him, the head splitting like ripe fruit as dark blood ran down the sides of its wound before he kicked it firmly in the gut, sending it crashing to the floor. Leah tackled another, stabbing it through the eye before rising to her feet, adjusting the hefty duffel bag on her shoulder before following in his footsteps. 

“Just a little farther! We should run into them at any moment!” He said as another small group of walkers approached them. Just as he’d said, a tall blonde woman and a young man in a denim mechanic’s uniform appeared at the end of the hall, dispatching the walkers in their way just as one of them grabbed onto Leslie’s arm.

“Shit!”

“I got you!”

Leah plunged her blade into its head while Jericho beheaded another with his axe. With the hallway clear Jericho couldn’t help but smile at the newcomers as they had finally come together. 

“Boy am I glad to see you guys.” He said as he extended a blood-covered hand.

“I’m the handsome face behind the radio, Jericho.”

Leah rolled her eyes at that statement while Leslie couldn’t help but release a lighthearted laugh. The two of them shook hands before they were immediately cut off by the sound of gunfire.

“What the hell? I thought the plan was to do this as quietly as possible?” Paige said as she ran over to a nearby window, seeing flashes of gunfire coming from the alley where Uncle B was positioned in his truck. 

The group made their way to the fire escape, dropping down onto the street level. Leslie scouted ahead, creeping along the building before peeking his head around to see into the front of the apartment building. His heart skipped a beat as his blood turned to ice, noticing how the walkers had a new destination in mind. The group was now making their way toward the alley, right towards his Uncle.

Leslie made his way back to the rear of the building, a thin sheet of sweat running down his face as he struggled to calm himself down.

“They’re gonna swarm him. Did you try reaching him on the radio?”

Paige nodded.

“He’s not responding. I’m getting nothing but static.”

“Alright, we find an alternate route to get back that alley as fast as we can. We get to the alley, and see what the hell is going on. We need to get a move on before it gets dark, now!”

Paige threw an apologetic look Leah and Jericho’s way.

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. But—”

Leah held up a hand.

“Shit happens, that’s something we’ve learned the hard way. Whatever you guys need, we’ll be there to help.” She said as she adjusted her bag. 

The group quickly dashed in the opposite direction of the apartment, making their way around several blocks until they found themselves at the very street corner they were looking for. Leslie reached into his holster and drew the .357 he carried with him, heart thumping madly in his chest at the thought of having to use it on a living person. Before they could get any closer, a pickup truck came speeding out of the alley, tires screeching as the driver slammed on the breaks.

“Get down!”

Paige tackled Leslie to the ground, firing off three shots into the car as several bullets flew over their head, sparks raining down on them from above as a bulb from a nearby streetlamp exploded.  
“Who the fuck was that?” Leslie said as he scrambled to his feet.

“Doesn’t matter! Come on!”  
They rushed into the alley to see Uncle B rolling around on the ground, a bloody gash in his forehead as he held an arm to a bleeding wound on his shoulder. The left side of his face was covered in blood as he turned his head in their direction, gritting his teeth as he struggled to rise to his feet.

“They jumped me and took the damn truck!”

Jericho hoisted the man to his feet, throwing his arm around his shoulder as Leslie took the other.

“That doesn’t matter! We just need to get back to the shop, now!”


	5. Departure

To say that Leslie’s Uncle was pissed about having his pickup stolen would have been an understatement. Weeks passed after the incident, and it seemed like every hour Leslie would spot the man standing by the window that looked out into the back parking lot of the shop, his eyes glued to the spot where his truck had been. 

They’d gotten lucky, as Leah was a nurse before thew world had gone insane. She’d made short work of removing the bullet that had gotten lodged in his shoulder and done an excellent job of patching him up. However, given how risky the mission to rescue Jericho and Leah had been, it was clear that it was time to leave the city. Too many walkers, too many buildings for people to hide out in, too many ways in which you could get killed. Add in the fact that their only functional vehicle had been stolen and you’ve got even more motivation to leave.

They eventually got their hands on two spare tires, affixing one to complete the van and storing the other inside the van’s interior. With the van complete, they still needed another vehicle. The setup wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would have to do. Jericho volunteered to drive the van while Leslie would ride shotgun upfront. Uncle B could rest in the sleeping compartment above while Paige and Leah could both sit in the back. With all of the gear they had stowed back there, it would be a bit crowded with the two of them, but neither of them had any complaints. They would be traveling in what was basically an armored car, after all. 

At night, they all sat in the garage looking over a series of maps. Given that Leslie’s Uncle had done his fair share of traveling across the country, he’d kept hold of his many maps of the USA as well as those of prominent states he’d visit. The only question was in regard to their destination.

“Where to?” Jericho’s voice cut through the darkness as Leslie traced his finger along a certain route on the map.

“For now, I’m more so concerned about getting out of LA. After that, we find a quiet place to settle down in and make a long term plan.”

Leah's eyebrows were furrowed in thought as she fiddled with the pocketknife she always carried on her. “Before the news went dark, they were saying that they were setting up safe areas in the cities and in certain suburban areas. It might be worth checking out some of those places outside of the city and seeing if they’re still standing. For all we know there could still be some branches of government still functioning.”

What were the odds of that? When this all started, no one wanted to believe what was happening in front of their eyes. The mass outbreak of mass violence following the discovery of some unknown pathogen spreading across the world faster than any illness people had seen before. The police, the military, medical professionals—absolutely no one knew what they were dealing with. Now here they were in a world seemingly void of all order.

“Let’s day we do find one of these places,” Jericho was staring intently at the map as he kept his arms folded across his chest. “I can scout out the place. Say me and Leslie head in, see what’s going on. If the place is legit, we’ll radio to you and keep you updated. If the place is dead, we move on. Try to make it on our own.”

“I’ve got this feeling,” Paige’s face was grim, her right leg shaking as she held a fist beneath her chin. “What if we’re looking at the worst-case-scenario? What if this is really it? No army, no police force, no government—what do we do if it’s really all gone? We have any long term plans for that?”

Uncle B simply shrugged.

“We get away from large crowds of people. Find a place to settle down and ride things out. All I know is that we need to stay away from the cities. Places like these are nothing but a death trap. That said, we should move tomorrow. I’ll radio into Reggie. We’ve got a decent amount of supplies to keep us going for a while, but we need guns, and he’s made it clear that he’s more than willing to share with us. He’s got a ride of his own. We travel together. Stay close, and we don’t stop for anything.”

The group cast nervous glances at one another, before silently nodding. 

Starting tomorrow, their journey would begin.


End file.
